


Hair Trigger

by WhatICantShowYou



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Knotting, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24275821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatICantShowYou/pseuds/WhatICantShowYou
Summary: A request for some knotplay, coming in pants and a hair trigger Geralt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 304





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Okay, what about some knotplay? Once Jask knows WolfWitchers have them... Trying to work Geralt up enough that he'll knot in his pants in public, be completely incapacitated there in the inn, or whatev. Or it's not difficult because Geralt it a lil hair trigger, since so few folks are up for being knotted, so G's always fighting not to go off prematurely. Maybe instead the games they play involve desensitizing G until he can actually hold off reasonably... ;) Thoughts?

It had been an accident the first time, a very true and genuine accident. Jaskier had worked himself up with a pretty lady, gotten most of the way into bed and then promptly kicked out with his naked arse first. Shrugging off the incident, the bard had returned to his and Geralt’s room, cock still straining in his small clothes and a heavy scent of mixed arousal on his skin. 

The witcher must had known he was there before he even opened the door, Jaskier meeting his amber eyes as he tried to stealthily sneak into bed next to the man. His cheeks heated up, but he made a vague motion with his arm as to say _“shit happens,”_ and then turned over, back facing the other.

It was a few minutes after this that Jaskier woke up from his dozed off state, frowning at the low grunt behind him and the litany of curses being whispered. He considered going back to sleep immediately, but was suddenly aware of a moist sensation growing against the small of his back, quickly turning around to get a better look.

“Fuck,” Geralt said flatly, his furrowing his brows as he desperately clutched at his crotch, Jaskier eyeing the scene in true confusion. Either with the swiftness of a witcher or that of a normal human being, the bard unable to tell through his groggy and tired mind, Geralt was up and out of the bed, scrambling to rid himself of his breaches and small clothes. 

Now, the two were no strangers to nudity, any attempt of distancing themselves from it rendered futile considering the way they traveled together. In fact, Jaskier was pretty sure he could sketch the man in vivid detail from any angle by now after the multitude of hours spent bathing him and tending to his wounds. He _was_ pretty sure, now not so much. 

In the faint light from the moon outside, Jaskier saw the man’s member straining against gravity, bobbing and twitching in his grip as he seemed stressed beyond imagination. But Geralt was not truly stimulating himself, instead just holding tightly at the base, seemingly massaging that spot over and over as white come slowly dribbled out of the slit and down the shaft.

“What the _fuck_ is that?”

Amber eyes quickly shot to stare at the bard, anger flaring up for a second. Not that Jaskier paid it much attention, he was far more enraptured with the swelling sat directly where cock met groin, whatever underneath it bulging out the skin into a dark red as thick fingers clutched at the base. 

“It’s-,” started Geralt, angling himself away from the other for some privacy, the concept foreign to the two of them. After another minute of silence between the two, Geralt turned back around, his cock still partially erect and the bulge still present; Come no longer seeped out of the head, though, which Jaskier was weirdly appreciative of, knowing fully well that it would be yet another distraction to this conversation they _so_ were going to have. “It’s called a knot.”

After some agonisingly awkward explanations, Jaskier had a vague idea of some witcher anatomy he had never picked up on before. Apparently they popped a knot when coming, the function being to lock their fluids inside to take. It felt exponentially better to simulate it being locked inside a tight hole, explaining his fingers gripped tightly around the base. Geralt never touched upon the reason for having a very spontaneous one next to him in the dead of night, but that could wait Jaskier decided. 

The second time was also an accident, but much less confusing. Jaskier had once again gone into his role as a backup, dutifully bathing the witcher and washing grime and gore from his hair and back. He prompted Geralt to turn around in order to get most of his body, the witcher obliging without question. 

The bard slid his hands over the scarred skin, brushing off what dirt he found without much trouble. When his fingers grazed the man’s nipple, a small jolt coursed through Geralt, both of them choosing to ignore it. When it happened again, Jaskier couldn’t really keep himself from pushing his luck. 

With the theatrical expertise of a true bard, Jaskier made his movements look as accidental as possible, trying hard to not chuckle at the reaction it brought forward. Eventually he built up the courage to truly push it, pinching both nipples in a sudden movement as he envisioned his immediate execution by morning. 

Instead of a beheading, all he got was a full-body shudder and a broken groan, Geralt seizing up for a few seconds and his hands gripping the edge of the tub tightly. Then Jaskier turned his gaze downwards and saw that knot tightly formed, pulsing pathetically underwater while pumping out seed from the unstimulated cock. 

Jaskier quickly covered his trail, pretending as if he didn’t notice and instead fawned over some light scrape on the man’s arm, apologising for not tending to it and obviously hurting the other from his lacking care. If Geralt didn’t buy it, he didn’t mention it. That’s the day Jaskier found out a knot stays formed for several minutes even if left unstimulated. 

It would be a lie to say Jaskier did not abuse his newfound information. The idea of having a huge, monster killing witcher with a hair trigger was too good to not indulge in.

Jaskier finished his short repertoire and slid into the seat next to Geralt, sweat beading in his forehead and his entire being practically glowing as he revelled in the last cascades of applauds. The witcher was seated more or less in the middle of the inn; The two arrived late to the town and had to make do of what was left. His plate was empty, tankard halfway filled, and Geralt just stared at him with unamusement. Somehow the witcher had no intention of enjoying himself in a crowded inn, but Jaskier was. Oh, it was too good of a chance to pass up.

It started with a pat to his thigh, the bard smiling at him as he talked about the songs. He moved on to the more raunchy ones, going into details he had spared the other regarding his lyrical choices and experiences the songs were based on. It clearly gained him a reaction, Geralt’s fingers tightening around the tankard before downing the rest in one go. 

Peeking down, Jaskier saw the thick member already straining the witcher’s breaches, clear enough through the fabric for him to see the small twitches it made as the rough material provided friction. So he pressed on.

After several minutes he stood up, smiling sweetly down at Geralt as he stole the tankard from him, excusing himself to go fill it up once more. As he passed by the other, he let his free hand trail along his torso, brushing over the other’s pecs and collarbone before giving him a knowing squeeze to his shoulder. 

It seemed just enough to set him off, doubling over in his seat as he gasped for breath for a second, eyes bulging out. Though wanting to stay and witness the scene, Jaskier walked over to the bar for another drink, soon returning to slide back into his seat once more. 

Geralt was no longer folded in on himself, instead looking strained and bothered with a straight back and clenched jaw. A growing spot in his breaches was visible to the bard, probably to anyone coming close enough he mused with a smile. Fingers were gripping the base with power, knuckled going white under the pressure as he rolled his hips in quick jerks, a barely audible hum leaving the man as he did. It was mesmerising. 

Jaskier slid the tankard over to Geralt, holding back a smile when the other made no move for it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair to watch the scene unfold, the witcher’s eyes darting back and forth between anyone passing by their table and hand gripped tightly along his member. As he kept rocking ever so slightly in his chair, the spot grew in short successions, the man still unloading in his breaches while patrons around them laughed and conversed, Geralt massaging his big, tight knot in his hand as it pulsed out his seed for anyone to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always open for requests on my tumblr! whaticantshowyou.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: i wanna maybe tentatively suggest to add some overstimulation to it?? like geralt desperately wanting to finally fuck jaskier & knot him but jaskier just keeps making him come and never letting him get what he wants,,

Geralt caught on to his act eventually. Jaskier got sloppy with hiding his amusement as time went on, making the man knot his own smallclothes one too many times around people. 

“This is ridiculous.” Geralt pushed the other against the door, his words hissed out between gritted teeth. The inn was a small one, not all too busy, so escaping the crowd had been awkward at best, dragged away from the tables behind the witcher to many people’s dismay. Amber eyes were blown wide, sweat beading on the other’s forehead. 

Geralt closed his eyes for a moment and let out a low whine as a tremor shook him gently. Jaskier glanced down to the growing spot in his tented pants, knot still heavy despite the lack of stimulation as it made a futile attempt to catch onto anything. A smirk lit up the bards face for a moment only to quickly be replaced by a pained cough as the witcher slammed him into the door once more. 

“Don’t,” he warned, hands fisted tightly in the other’s doublet. Jaskier did his best to calm the other down, offering him his apologies and made up guilt. 

“You know, I could help you out with it at some stage? Uh-... let you blow off some steam? Might improve some stamina.” Unlike his other ideas, this gained a reaction. Geralt keened as he shook once more, his body seemingly doing most of his thinking and the promise of a hole - probably the promise of _anything_ but his own pants at this stage - made him tremble and come one last time. 

And so it was set. In fear of being potentially murdered once Geralt came back to his senses, Jaskier paid for his own room to sleep in, figuring the witcher deserved some privacy as well after the bard’s selfish games. The next day, it all seemed forgotten, none of them really mentioning it and the days passed by uneventfully after that.

Jaskier wasn’t as stupid as some would coin him, knowing fully well how far a man could push his luck before truly being in some deep fucking shit. So he left the whole teasing behind to focus on their travels, Geralt seemingly less jittery as time went on and Jaskier proving himself to be taking the witcher’s threats seriously.

But one day it all turned. It was from one moment to the other, the slow decent starting from nowhere. Every once in a while, the witcher would excuse himself, leaving Jaskier to his own devices for several minutes before returning. Whatever he did made no apparent difference, Geralt still as wound up and distant as before. It was a week before it came to it’s logical end, Jaskier walking in after his performance downstairs to witness the man taking his own hand roughly. 

“Oh-“ The bard was known for better wordplays, but too surprised by the display to do any better. In the years travelling as companions, he had never _seen_ Geralt get off by himself, only heard of his escapes to brothels and witnessed the releases Jaskier had brought upon the man himself. Now, Geralt was stripping his cock quickly, whining at the sensitivity and letting himself go for a few seconds before continuing. Knowing his hair trigger, Jaskier assumed he was trying to keep the pleasure going for more than a minute or so, staving off his edge every few pumps.

His announcement into the room made the witcher flinch, staring the bard down with heavy eyes. The hand on his cock clamped down hard as he growled, head flung backwards while his hips willed themselves to stop. A few seconds later, cock still hard and heavy, Geralt turned to his side to show some decency, covering himself up as best as he could. It was an apology, Jaskier realised, words not available to the man at the moment.

He stalked closer slowly, Geralt watching him with a deep hunger. 

“I promised to help, didn’t I?” Jaskier had known Geralt long enough to catalogue most of his expressions, but the one flashing over his face was foreign. Fear. The bard stayed still until Geralt broke the silence.

“I wouldn’t be able to stop.” His voice was rough. Pained. His member was still leaking as he drew his knees closer to his chest, looking so vulnerable all of a sudden. It awoke something primal in the bard, his heart racing. “Fuck, I wouldn’t let you go from my knot.”

Jaskier had figured as much, the way Geralt avoided him and left to deal with himself in solitude. It was when the bard was peacocking at his worst that Geralt seemed the most overcome by his desires, leaving him only to return half an hour later and insistently avoiding eye contact with him. Jaskier’s promise must had awoken something in him, a need to finally just knot his teasing arse for good as he had promised.

“I could tie you down,” he offered, smiling gently. It seemed to be good enough a plan to the out-of-his-senses witcher, free hand vaguely gesturing to his bags. Jaskier managed to find a few different rags and fabrics, some longer than the other. They would do. He grabbed a vial of scented oil from his own bag before making his move towards the bed. Turning back, he saw the witcher turned to his back once more, gaze averted and cock twitching.

Without any resistance Geralt let himself be tied up, hands fully secured above his head and legs splayed. While still fully clothed, the man truly looked like prey now. A wicked thought ran through the bard’s head, a desire to wreck and ruin the man before him.

Jaskier sat down on the bed next to Geralt, quickly unbuttoning the dark shirt he was wearing. Things would get messy, he figured, so he would take at least this precaution. As his fingers brushed over the witcher’s skin, Geralt sighed, lungs already heaving. Jaskier wondered if he could make him come from just petting his abs. Probably. 

“Get on with it,” Geralt demanded. His hips thrust into the air against his will, the man too far gone down the rabbit hole to care for his impatience. It was quite a contrast to how vulnerable he had acted just a few minutes ago. Jaskier let out a chuckle at that, smiling warmly towards the man. 

“Patience, my dear,” he said, patting his thigh. “Patience is an uncredited virtue.” 

His hand snaked down his body, doing small circles just above his crotch. When Geralt opened his mouth to complain once more, Jaskier took the member in hand and gave him a lazy pump. The words got caught in the other’s throat, instead letting a desperate groan escape. 

With a loose hand, Jaskier stripped the cock in quick movements, not letting up to give the other time. It seemed to dawn on the other what was going on, Geralt’s eyes switching between his leaking erection and the fully clothed man handling it with Unrestrained panic. He knew he was coming into the air once more, forced to wait until he got to knot the bard. After barely a minute, the infamous knot made it’s appearance, Jaskier clamping down his other hand tentatively around the bulge as he kept his other hand in motion.

The sinful moans leaving the other sent a spark up Jaksier’s spine, watching as Geralt lost himself to the stimulation and crumbled before him. His cock let out spurt after spurt as it twitched in his hand, Jaskier stroking him through it with determination. Always good at imitations, his other hand massaged the knot firmly the way he had seen the witcher himself do, this making the head leak impossibly more steadily. 

“How long does the knot stay?” His voice was mockingly calm, eyes set on the screwed up ones before him. Geralt panted and whined, thrusting himself into the friction without care. After a full minute of wanton moaning the come came out in steady leaks instead of spurts. The knot clenched at the stimulation, body too overcome with the faux locking to care for it being fake. 

“Half an hour at most,” Geralt finally gritted out, fully relaxed into the mattress at this point. Jaskier had stopped stroking him, instead keeping his hand wrapped around the length as the other slowly and steadily massaged the knot. Every once in a while, the witcher would seize up, shudder, and a slow stream of come would trail down his member to join the small puddle on his skin.

As time went on, the knot receded, Geralt’s breaths growing more even as it did. With an experimental twist of his wrist, Jaskier saw the man cringe in oversensitivity, grunting at the stimulation as he glared at the other. 

Before the witcher managed to say anything, Jaskier picked up the pace. His hand stroked the cock feverishly, whatever blood that had left it quickly coming back to bring him to full hardness once more. Watching Geralt’s expression change a mile a second was intoxicating, the stoic witcher but a trembling mess within seconds under his ministrations. 

His back arched up, hips thrusting wildly into the hand as several pained moans left him. Curses filled the air between them, Jaskier smiling an humming a gentle tone as he continued. In a matter of minutes, the knot was filling out once again, Jaskier locking in in his fist for the second time of the evening.

The orgasm didn’t seem to be less strong this time around, going as steadily as it had the first. Geralt on the other hand was whimpering and struggling against the bonds, his head thrown back against the pillow and eyes screwed close. Jaskier kept working him through it with a calm demeanour, interlacing the other’s moans with encouragement.

As came the drawl of the knot coming down, Geralt this time melted into the bed as he was suspended on the clouds of pleasure most of the time it happened. Jaskier was almost jealous of his anatomy, clearly able to live through the high for far longer than any human.

As the knot once more disappeared, Jaskier smiled and petted Geralt’s stomach, rubbing soothing circles in the coarse hair and spreading the mess of fluids over his skin. Meeting the witcher’s eyes, he stood up and started to unbutton his doublet, chuckling it off along with his chemise and pants. With a shrug, he let his small clothes drop to the floor as well. A pained groan alerted Jaskier of the twitching member, once more filling up at the sight before him. 

“Perhaps the stamina isn’t the problem here,” Jaskier chuckled. He got back into the bed, this time straddling his upper thighs. His own cock was standing to attention, red and heavy as it bobbed against his stomach. “But we got to work on that hair trigger of yours.”

Jaskier pawed at the sheets, finding the vial blindly and uncorked it. Spreading some of it’s content on his fingers, he could see the hungry look in the deep ambers. As one hand gently grasped the witcher’s cock, he reached back behind himself to start opening his body up. 

It gained an immediate reaction, Geralt thrusting up into the loose circle of Jaskier’s hand as he watched him intently. Visibly wincing, Geralt battled with his oversensitive cock and his primal need to just knot _something_ , dammit.

Jaskier slipped one finger inside himself as he kept teasing the man, just barely grazing the sensitive flesh with his hand as he worked himself open. One finger turned into two, scissoring himself as he intentionally let out heavy sighs of pleasure. Every time he did, the cock in his hand twitched, the knot filling up for the third time. 

Geralt twisted an turned, clearly torn between the immense pleasure and painful attention to his sensitive skin. Jaskier bounced himself on his fingers, his weight shifting upon the witcher’s thighs. 

“Gods! Imagine I was riding you, my dear!” Jaskier did his best to keep the mocking tone inside, instead letting his voice turn sickly sweet as moaned intermingled. It clearly had a reaction, Geralt seizing up at his words and struggling even more. “Your fat knot would catch on my rim so nicely, locking you inside me. You want that, don’t you?”

Jaskier’s hand kept stripping his cock, clamping down hard around the base every downstroke and watching as Geralt desperately tried to string together a sentence. His fingertips pressed into his sweet spot, the bard groaning sinfully as he indulged in his own pleasure while teasing the other mercilessly. Amber eyes were locked on his body, his chest heaving and member bouncing along with his movements as it dripped needly. 

“Fuck, Geralt! You would take me so well, right? So deep inside.” He increased the rhythm slightly, already exhausting himself from his movements. But the edge wasn’t far away now, the warmth in his core spreading like a wildfire. His fingers kept abusing his prostate, making him a mewling mess on top of the bound witcher.

“But, you wouldn’t be able to, right? You’re far too sensitive, my friend. You would shoot like a young little boy before you even got inside of me.” His own words turned him on, studying Geralt under heavy eyelashes as he panted. The other went rigid under his body, red spreading over his skin from the embarrassment and his mouth opening to grit back. But the display before him, the wrecked and self-conscious man absolutely soiled in his own spend, sent the last needed push for the bard. 

His cock erupted as he ground his fingers into his sweet spot, throwing his head back while continuing to stroke Geralt. Before his orgasm truly ended, he dared himself another look, watching as the witcher fully knotted his hand and came in pure humiliation all over himself. 

Whatever Geralt had planned to say was lost in wanton moans, whines that gave him nothing but unrelated vowels and pleas. His hips stuttered upwards, then quickly tried to escape the hand tormenting him. With a swift movement, Jaskier pulled out from himself to once more massaging the heavy knot, stroking the witcher through his third orgasm. 

“You really can’t hold it, Geralt. How could you knot me like that?” Jaskier knew he was being mean, but in his defence he wasn’t even sure the man could hear him. For several minutes, as his orgasm was at it’s strongest, Geralt was bordering on delirious, his head thrown from side to aide while pathetically testing his bindings. His body trembled, every muscle taut and shaking. The high seemed to only get prolonged the more edges he crossed. Lucky bastard. 

Jaskier slowed down his movements when he felt the bulge finally go down again, just holding the witcher in his hands while smiling fondly at him. He was truly a mess and Jaskier, for one, had no idea how he would be able to stop this madness anytime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Always open for requests on my tumblr! whaticantshowyou.tumblr.com


End file.
